


ten

by cr7



Category: Football RPF
Genre: FC Bayern München, I miss my bbys :((, M/M, Real Madrid CF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 02:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11818890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cr7/pseuds/cr7
Summary: cris can't look at luka the same





	ten

Luka took the vacant number 10 jersey.

 

Cris knew Luka deserved it more than anyone. He had done so much for the team in the 5 years he was at Madrid and deserved the prestigious 10 more than any of the other contenders of the jersey. Cris knew Asensio, Ceballos, Isco, and even Zidane would agree. Cris even knew the previous owner of the jersey would agree. 

 

And that was just the problem.

 

No matter what Luka did for the team, no matter all the blood, sweat, and tears Luka shed for Madrid, he didn't have the sweet smile of James. He didn't have the soft skin of James. Luka didn't have his contagious laugh that seemed to always brighten up Cris’s day.

 

Cris knew Luka meant no harm taking the 10, he just took a number that was vacant and there’s nothing wrong with that, so why did Cris feel like Luka just stole something that was his? Why did Cris have an ache in his chest when he watched Luka dribble through the United defenders with the back of his shirt proudly branding the new 10 below ‘Modric’?

 

Cris knew he shouldn’t even be this crestfallen over James’s departure from Madrid. They hadn’t been going out long enough for Cris to feel anything significant when James told him he was leaving for Munich, so they broke it off on good terms. Cris knew he should be happy for James; he was going to a phenomenal club that guarantees more trophies and playing time. 

 

But Cris knew a lot now didn’t he? 

 

He regretted every second of that day. Cris was about to leave to buy James a birthday gift, he knew exactly what to get him and was ecstatic to buy it- a puppy. A puppy for his puppy, the perfect gift. However, just when he was about to open the door, James called him back inside, told him to sit down on the couch, and told him the news.

 

“It’s just that, well, I- I love my life in Madrid and wouldn’t trade it for anything, but it-it’s just that I’m…” James stammered trying to find the right words, “I’m not playing enough. And Mendes found me a new club. It’s a 2 year loan. To Bayern. They haven’t agreed on the price yet, but as soon as they do, they want me in Munich. I’m really sorry Cris.” James looks down at his lap, not able to look at Cris.

 

Cris wished to that day when he was sitting on the couch in his hotel room in Beijing, watching Madrid play his old club with Luka running around in  _ James’s _ jersey number.  _ Yes, James’s jersey  _ Cris thought to himself. Cris wished he had stopped James from leaving, he wished he would've pleaded for James to stay, to cancel the deal. He wished he would’ve gone down on his knees and told him that he’ll ask Zidane to give him more minutes. He wished he would’ve dragged James into his room and locked him in there until he agreed not to leave. Instead, Cris behaved like a coward, telling James that it’s ok, that this move is good for him, that he’s glad he’s going somewhere where he’ll be treated right. Cris also told him that he wasn’t in for a long distance relationship, and James agreed. 

 

Whether Cris would allow himself to believe it or not, he liked James more than he would ever tell himself- he  _ loved _ James even. The first few nights James was gone, Cris couldn’t bring himself to sleep on their bed-  _ his _ bed- alone, so he spent the first few nights with a friend in Spain, before going to China for his promotional tour. They talked endlessly for the first nights James was in Munich, James complained about his inability to understand his new teammates, and Cristiano related to him by talking about his initial season at United. But then James became busy with his China tour and Cris with his, so they talked less and less until they both just stopped talking at all. And all Cris wanted more than anything, was to hear the sweet, silky voice of James. So after the game ended with United winning 2-1 on penalties, Cris decided to call him. 

 

The first call ended with a voicemail. The second, the same. Cris was starting to feel stupid when he called him for the third time.  _ Why would he answer? It’s almost 7 in the fucking morning. _

 

“Hola? Cris?” James’s groggy voice came from the phone. 

 

And fuck, Cris had never heard anything more beautiful than that. 

 

“Oh did I wake you up? Fuck sorry, I’ll call again later” 

 

“It’s fine, I was gonna wake up anyway. So what’s up?” Cris distinctly heard a teasing  _ ‘Is that your girlfriend, James?’  _ from a voice he did not recognize and heard James tell him to go back to sleep. He heard a shuffling and a door slide open, then close.  _ James must’ve gone outside, or left the room. _

 

“I just wanted to see what you were up to. I miss you, you know, like a lot actually,” Cris confessed.

 

“I miss you too, Cris, a lot,” James let out a small a laugh before saying in a hushed whisper, “But I love it here. Cris, it’s such a great club and it’s so much fun. And the people and fans are so nice. And have you seen their twitter? It’s hilarious!” James giggled and Cris felt his heart fall to his stomach. 

 

“But, don’t you miss Madrid? Your  _ home _ ?” Cris desperately asked.

 

James let out a soft sigh before answering, “Of course. Madrid will always be my home, but this is where I am now and there’s nothing I can do but accept it. Anyways, I’m pretty sure you watched the match because you never get up at 5 in the morning, so what happened?” Cris smiled into the phone at how well James knew him. Because James knew him better than anyone else in the world. In the few months they’ve been together, James sometimes knew Cris more, than Cris did about himself. 

 

“It ended 1-1, then we lost 2-1 on pens, but you know what the craziest part was?” James answered no, “it was seeing Luka _ fucking _ Modric, in the number 10 jersey,  _ your  _ jersey.”

 

“Oh, but you know what was even crazier?” James giggled like he knew something he wasn’t supposed to tell, “he asked  _ me _ if he could have it. He, Luka  _ fucking _ Modric, asked me if he could wear my old number. Like I was some fucking club legend or something.”

 

Cris didn’t know what to say. Does he tell James that he was a club legend in Cris’s eyes? Or agree with him?

 

“Cris? You there?” James questioned after a couple seconds of silence.

 

“ _ I love you _ ,” the words were out before he could even think about it. Cris mentally slapped himself in the head.  _ Idioto! _

 

“What?” James was shocked, he had never expected Cris to like him nevertheless  _ love _ him. 

 

Cris couldn’t go back on his words now, so he took a deep breath and began to explain, “I know we only dated for a few months, and that’s why I thought I would survive without you, but while I was watching the game, I realized we’ve known each other for so much longer for only the last few months to count. We’ve known each other for 3 years. 3 years of amazing, wonderful moments with you that I would never forget in 2 lifetimes. We weren’t dating for most of those 3 years, but even if we were, it wouldn’t change anything. I realized when you left those few months aren’t they only thing to take accountable for our relationship, because there were also 3 years behind us of being connected by the hip. And I think gradually, over those 3 years I became head over heels for you, I just didn’t realize.  _ Fuck _ , I regret ever letting you leave me and I fucking hate myself for that. I miss you, so fucking much. I thought I would miss your presence for a few days and get over it, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.  _ What’s James doing? Is he settling well? Does he miss me? Did he find some hot German ass already? Does he wish I was with him?  _ I couldn’t stop myself because I knew if I would’ve just told you not to go you wouldn’t have some hot German ass because you’d have me. And the last straw was hearing Luka take the 10. It was like you were officially gone and it was all my fault. It’s all my fault I can’t look at Luka without seeing you, or how now I’ll always judge how Luka’s pass is never as perfectly weighted as yours. Fuck I fucking love you, you fucking piece of shit. And I’ve loved you for 3 fucking years. You never know what you really have, until it’s gone….I just really fucking love you, James Rodriguez.”

 

When Cris finished his speech, he was shocked to hear how natural that was. How it took no train of thought and just poured out of him. He knew it was the truth, he just never had to courage to say it, but at that moment he couldn’t keep it, his feelings, inside him for any longer. He just hoped James felt the same. Cris heard some sniffling in the other line, “Are you crying?” 

 

“Yes,” James admitted cheekily. At that moment, Cris felt the cold water on his cheeks, touched them, and felt the tears that unknowingly fell from his face. 

 

“Well, fuck you I’m crying too, you bitch,” Cris said with a smile on his face, letting in a few sniffs as well. 

 

James let out a tearful laugh as well, “Did you really mean it?” 

 

“I will sell my son if I don’t mean it,” Cris replied seriously, wiping some unshed tears with his free hand. 

 

“I love you, too,” James said, almost like a secret. 

 

James loved him back. That’s all Cris needed. It might seem pathetic, for all Cristiano Ronaldo to needed in his luxurious life was for a former Real Madrid benchwarmer to love him back. But it was true. 

 

“Do you think...do you think we can try the long distance thing out?” Cris was fully expecting James to decline, saying how it’ll get in the way of his career, his number one priority right now. But Cris didn’t care. James loved him and he loved James back and he would even wait until he retired to join James in Germany in a couple years. 

 

“I wish we could have that super romantic kiss they do in the movies as my answer, but kissing my phone would be super weird, so yes, we never even gave us a chance, and I think we should change that.” 

 

“I’ll come visit you. Every week,” Cris promised. 

 

“Ummm no. I’ve been here for almost 2 weeks and I’ve had enough German for a lifetime. I’m not missing a chance to go to Madrid every week and finally not have to pretend to know what I’m doing. Besides, I can show Luka how to actually wear the number 10 correctly, the poor guy, bless his soul. But if he wants to be the best LM10, he's gotta learn from the best, ya know?”

 

Cris couldn’t help but giggle like a teenage girl and teased James, said how wearing the number 10 worked out so well for him, he wears 11 at Bayern. James proceeded to throw an imaginary pillow at him.

 

For the next 2 hours, James Rodriguez and Cristiano Ronaldo did nothing but sit and talk to each other- Cris on the couch in his hotel room in Beijing and James on the balcony of his hotel room in Singapore. Soon Cris would have to fly to Spain for his court case and James would later fly back to Germany for the season. The setting was unpleasant, they were always so close- yet so far. Their situation- not the best. They might have to play each other in a gruesome Champions League match. And the worst was that they might not always be able to be there for each other, but they would make it work. Because they know each other better than anyone else- and they were two birds in love. And when you’re in love, well, Cris believes anything is possible. And until the day where Cris would retire from football, and join James at his club, whether it be Bayern, Madrid, England, China, or some second tier team in Greece; they would make it work. Because they had to. Because no evil force could stop Cristiano and James from making it work. Because they were in love. And love conquered all the evil football Gods that tried to separate them. Cris would never be able to see anyone in a Real Madrid #10 the same, whether it be Luke or Marco or Isco or Ceballos or Mbappe if they manage to get him. But Cris was okay with that. Because Cris knew the more he looked at the name above the 10 and saw it wasn’t ‘James’, yeah he would be even more snippy and bitchy, but that was good because it meant no one could replace James,  _ his _ James. 

  
Cris knew a lot, he knew that. But if the one thing he could bet his life on knowing, is that no matter how many other talented, famous, rich,  _ galacticos _ wore the 10, they would never, ever,  _ ever  _ make Cris look at them like a friend, buddy, mentor, whatever. Because that spot was reserved for only one 10.  _ His _ 10\. 

**Author's Note:**

> i had no idea how the actual f to end this lmao. so i wrote this after the madrid-united game after that terrible penalty shootout, but i never got to posting this b/c it's an actual pile of shit, but i realized it's better to have it out in the world than rotting in my google docs. also, i miss crismes sm it's unreal :(


End file.
